Wane Of Winter

I see rich beauty in the slopes

It matters not how plain or barren they may be;

And I can trace a picture in

Each lone and barren tree.

The rough and broken line of wall

Has beauty lines for me.

There is something heroic, aye, grand,

In all this barrenness;

The shriek of winter’s tempest now is stilled,

And all the slopes and arid limbs

Are waiting to be clothed in Springtime’s gaudy dress.

April 9, ‘92

Written from a “Shore

Line” car window 

From ‘Original Poems, Vol. II:

                                       Wane Of Winter

                                              (From a Shore Line car window)

I see rich beauty in the slopes

It matters not how plain or barren they may be.

Each rough and broken line of wall

Has beauty lines for me;

And I can trace a picture in

Each lone and barren tree.

There is something heroic and grand,

Suggested in all this barrenness;

The shriek of winter’s tempest now is stilled,

And all the slopes and arid limbs

Are waiting to be clothed

In springtime’s gaudy dress.